


Nights Like These

by bansheee



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: HPFT, Drinking, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Leaky Cauldron, M/M, Pining, Post-Hogwarts, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Depression, Roommates, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Substance Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-08 16:39:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10391193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bansheee/pseuds/bansheee
Summary: If being away from Dean was making his dreams this bad and his feelings so strong, maybe living with Dean would make them both go away. They could go back to before, when things were easy and Seamus wasn’t one spark away from an explosion.





	1. one

Red sparks.  _ Dean _ . Screaming.  _ Mum and dad _ . Amycus Carrow.

Seamus watched as the Voldemort-Approved Dark-Arts professor pointed his wand at Dean, a snarl of a grin forming across his disgusting mouth. He felt himself trying to yell, but no words came out. A red light shot out of the teacher’s wand and Dean fell to the floor, clenching his fists and shouting in pain. Seamus felt wet heat roll down his cheeks as he watched his friend be put under the unforgivable curse. The red light filled the room, and when it faded, Seamus watched a dark figure loom over the faces of his parents. He watched tears stream down his mother’s face and watched his father fight against the magical wrist restraints. Thuds filled the room as a bolt of green light shot out from the figure’s hand. The room filled with light and Seamus startled awake with a large gasp of air.

His childhood bedroom was dark; Seamus couldn't tell what time it was with the curtains closed. As he did his best to steady his heavy breathing, thoughts of the dreams still swirled around in his head. Blinking to clear the sleep out of his eyes, Seamus sat up and grabbed the empty potions vial, turning it over. The words  _ Dreamless Sleep _ glittered across the empty bottle, and Seamus huffed in annoyance, throwing it over his shoulder.

When the glass didn’t break or even hit the wall, Seamus frowned and turned.

Standing in his doorway, Dean held the bottle between his thumb and index finger. Seamus fought back a sigh, ignoring the way his heart thumped faster. It wasn’t a rare occurrence for Dean to show up unannounced, even if the visits were less and less frequent as of late.

“You’re having them again?” Dean asked in lieu of a greeting. Concern etched itself deep into the furrow of his best friend’s brow line.

Seamus sighed.  _ They never stopped _ , was what he thought, but he looked to Dean and said, “Thought Neville said we weren’t meeting up until four.”

Dean started walking towards him and Seamus felt his shoulders tense. “It’s actually half past, I haven’t seen you in a week so I let myself in to make sure you hadn’t overdosed on sleep potions.” Seamus clenched his jaw when Dean sat on the bed next to him and handed him the empty vial. He closed his eyes when Dean’s fingers touched the palm of his hand.

Seamus couldn’t decide if this was worse than the dreams, having Dean right next to him. He felt like his feelings were written across his forehead in the way his shoulders wouldn’t relax and his breathing wouldn’t slow. 

“Neville and Hannah had news for all of us. Everyone wanted to see you.”

“Is Hannah already knocked up?” Seamus asked, grinning when he managed to make Dean laugh.

“Hannah got the lease to the Leaky Cauldron this morning and she and Neville have decided to turn the rooms above into flats.” He could feel Dean’s eyes on him, waiting for some sort of reaction. Seamus turned the bottle over in his hand, twisting it around his fingers until Dean elbowed him in the side.

“We always said we were going to get a flat together after Hogwarts,” Dean pointed out.

_ That was before. _ Seamus said nothing.

“You know I just accepted the job offer at Gringotts, right? You remember me telling you that?” Dean asked. Seamus could hear the first hint of aggravation in his tone. Dean turned to look at him. “I’m worried about you, Seamus, being here in Ireland all alone. It’s… it’s been four years since –”

So Dean wouldn’t finish his sentence, Seamus stood. He wanted to be angry at Dean for bringing it up, as if it wasn’t haunting his thoughts every day and his dreams every night.

“I know,” Seamus said, looking to the ground. He couldn’t, wouldn’t fight Dean, because his own demons would always win. “I know what it looks like… to you, to all of our friends.”

If being away from Dean was making his dreams this bad and his feelings so strong, maybe living with Dean would make them both go away. They could go back to before, when things were easy and Seamus wasn’t one spark away from an explosion.

“It’ll be just like we always wanted,” Dean said. Seamus could tell Dean was still trying to convince him, as if he wouldn’t do anything Dean asked of him without question.

Seamus looked up to Dean, at the way the light of the setting sun highlighted across his cheek, looked at the way it brightened the impossible brown in his eyes, and like looking to the sun itself, Seamus ignored the pain.

“When do we move?” 


	2. two

As Dean Thomas’ alarm clock ticked from 4:36 a.m. to 4:37, a lot of things happened very rapidly.  
  
First came the screech. It had to have been some kind of bird, or, hell if he knew, maybe a large reptile. All Dean knew was that it wasn’t human. There was a crash, followed closely by the muttered sound of a man trying to talk the source of the noise into a calm state.  
  
It was the third time this week.  
  
Dean tried talking to Neville earlier that week about the neighbor; Neville was looking into what it would take to fix the sound transfer. There was some sort of spell in the old Leaky Cauldron building that prevented him from being able to put up silencing charms that lasted more than a few hours. Dean also knew that Neville and Hannah were already in over their heads with restoring and transforming the Leaky Cauldron to be move in ready in only a few short weeks, and he was grateful that Neville was even looking into the issue.  
  
When they couldn’t figure it out, Neville and Hannah went so far as to offer Dean and Seamus to move to a different apartment. And while Seamus initially said he’d be fine with it, Dean couldn’t ignore the progress over the past few weeks he’d seen come out of his best friend. While Seamus still had no intention of getting a job, he was sleeping at reasonable hours and even joking around and laughing with Dean.  
  
Dean couldn’t just uproot all of the progress Seamus was making, especially when he blamed himself for letting Seamus get so bad in the first place.  
  
Logically, Dean knew it wasn’t directly his fault that Seamus was taking potions every night so he wouldn’t have nightmares about the war or his dead parents, but Dean couldn’t help but feel responsible every time he remembered the excuses he would invent just so he wouldn’t have to see his best friend in such a miserable state.  
  
But that was in the past, and Dean knew the new place was already helping.  
  
He looked at his clock again and sighed, rubbing his eyes. It was two hours before he actually had to be awake. Throwing his duvet off to the side, Dean grabbed a shirt from the floor and exited his room.  
  
The sun was just starting to rise, so when Dean saw a bright blue coming from the living room in the center of the flat, he frowned. The light got brighter as he turned from the hallway into the main room.  
  
Dean stayed quiet as he watched Seamus point his wand at the candle on their coffee table. It was a gift from Luna; the candle had Moly leaves in it, and was supposed to protect against dark magic, and peace and tranquility to old places. The last time he was in Luna’s flat – across the hall from his and Seamus’ – she and her father had them all over to try to ward off some of the old magic in the building.  
  
Dean watched as Seamus changed the color and the size of the flame with silent magic. The furrow in Seamus’ brow was highlighted in blue by the flickering flame, and Dean watched as the light from the fire danced all around the shadows of the room.  
  
“I don’t think Neville will give us the friend’s special on the security deposit if we blow up the building on week two,” Dean said, breaking the silence.  
  
Seamus looked up from the flame and smiled. “More creatures calling into the night next door?”  
  
Dean nodded. “I should just move into your room, doesn’t look like you’re using it anyway.” He thought Seamus was sleeping though the night, but apparently he was wrong.  
  
“I use it while you’re at work, just not in the way you’re thinking.”  
  
Laughter startled out of Dean and Seamus grinned, bright and happy. “So you still have no interest in getting a job to pass the time?”    
  
Seamus looked down to the candle again. “Still no interest in letting me just fork over all the rent and hanging out here with me all day?”  
  
Jaw clenched, Dean forced himself to laugh because he knew it was what Seamus was looking for. When they decided to rent out one of the flats from Hannah and Neville, Seamus initially offered to pay the entirety of the monthly rent, to which Dean quickly shut down. For one thing, Dean didn’t actually want Seamus to blow his entire inheritance from his parents before he hit thirty, and for another, Dean didn’t want to rely off of his friend’s money. He wanted them to be equals.  
  
Dean didn’t push the topic of getting a job, because he knew that Seamus could actually live comfortably off of his inheritance for the rest of his life. He left Seamus in the living room to make coffee, using his wand to grab mugs from the cupboard as he twisted open the sugar container. He dumped two scoops into his own cup, one scoop in to Seamus’, and carried both of the steaming mugs back into the living room.  
  
“At least have a kip today. We’re meeting Luna for drinks downstairs after my shift,” Dean told him, handing over the mug. “ _We_ are.” Seamus gave him a look over the steaming cup, taking a drink instead of answering. Dean gave him a look right back and Seamus failed to hide a smirk behind sips of coffee. “It is literally down one flight of stairs,” Dean told him. “You have no excuses."  
  
Seamus raised the cup up and took another drink. “Kip’s not happening because of this coffee, mate.”  
  
Dean rolled his eyes and left the flat for work.  
  
After completing the Auror program that Kingsley Shacklebolt offered to every Dumbledore’s Army member after Voldemort’s fall, Dean applied for a job right away at Gringotts. Gringotts was full of nostalgia for Dean. Raised in a home with a Muggle mother and step-dad, Dean had very little knowledge of the Wizarding world until he got his Hogwarts letter. Gringotts was the very first place he and his step-dad went the first time they visited Diagon Alley to buy school supplies, and Dean loved it ever since.  
  
For most of his time at Gringotts, Dean stood around and checked the occasional wand or person. Every once in a while someone would get flagged as a high risk client, and Dean would have to accompany the Goblin to the vaults with the flagged witch or wizard. Dean generally enjoyed what he did, and the goblins paid him decently enough to have a good amount left over after his half of the rent.  
  
Work that day went by uneventfully; two high risk clients came in while he was on lunch, to which his partner complained about for most of the afternoon. Dean was glad to see the sun was still in the sky when he left that afternoon.  
  
He waved at Hannah when he entered The Leaky Cauldron, reminding himself to talk to her again about the neighbor when she wasn’t busy. She was pointing at something towards the ceiling and talking to a couple holding hands and nodding along with what she was saying, most likely looking to move in to one of the future rooms.    
  
“Oi, Dean!”  
  
Seamus was standing from one of the booths as Dean turned at the sound of his voice. Grinning, Dean walked over to the table that his two best friends were sitting in. Seamus was holding a jumper out for him – one of Dean’s from his own room – but Dean was focused on Seamus, and glad to see his best friend in a pair of trousers that didn’t have an elastic waistband.  
  
“You made it!” Dean said happily, pulling Seamus into a hug. He felt Seamus laugh as he clapped his hand against his back. Dean smiled at Luna from where she sat in the booth. After pulling the jumper over his Gringotts uniform, Dean joined his friends in the booth.  
  
“Right then,” Seamus said, turning to Luna. “Hated me. He loved Dean, by the way, but he hated me.”  
  
Dean looked at Luna. “Flitwick?”  
  
Luna nodded.  
  
“Mate, I don’t think Professor Flitwick had the capability to hate any of his students,” Dean said, smiling as he rehashed an old argument. “Snape, maybe, but not Flitwick.” Looking up towards the bar, he waved to Neville for a drink.  
  
“And you didn’t destroy half of his literature on Summoning Charms with a botched Accio, did you?” Seamus asked, the corners of his mouth turning up.  
  
Dean sat back in the booth and laughed as he listened to Luna and Seamus discuss their old Hogwarts professors and sipped on the cold drink in front of him, interjecting where he could. Mostly, Dean was just glad for a night with both of his best friends together laughing and drinking. Neville even joined them when the bar started to clear for the night.  
  
Dean looked up from his empty glass when the door from Muggle London opened. A man walked in and instantly got every eye in the bar when the thing he was carrying – some sort of furry, large rat looking animal – kicked over a bar stool. He was dark skinned with clean kept facial hair, and in Dean’s opinion, rather good looking. The man looked to the bar and mouthed ‘sorry’ and waved his wand to silently repair the broken stool. Gripping the animal by the back of the neck, the stranger started towards the stairs.  
  
Ever the Gryffindor, Dean stood from the booth with his friends and stopped in front of the man.

“Oi, are you in 2C?” he asked.  
  
“Ah, yes, I am,” the man said with a nervous chuckle. He looked at the table and Dean watched him stop at Luna with a surprised expression, before turning back to him. “And I’d love to stay and chat… meet the neighbors—” His sentence was cut off as the thing in his hand struggled to get away. “—but if I don’t get this bugger fed and down to sleep soon it will be a long night for everyone.”  
  
Dean opened his mouth to speak, but Luna beat him to it. “Just feed him a ginger root and he’ll be asleep in moments.”  
  
The man looked to Luna again with the same surprised expression, before giving her a smile. Luna, however, did not return the gesture and looked back to Neville. “Could I have another one of these, please?”  
  
Dean watched as the man’s smile faltered before he turned away. “Right; I’d love to stay and chat, maybe another time. Good night, neighbors!” Sidestepping Dean, he raced for the stairs before Dean realized he meant to confront the man about the noise.  
  
“Know him, Luna?” Dean asked as he took his spot back in the booth. Seamus was next to him to make room for Neville, and he slid a shot over to Dean. “Looked like he recognized you.”  
  
“Nope,” Luna said shortly, only smiling after Neville sat a drink down in front of her.  
  
“Maybe he’s a fan of yours,” Seamus said. “With all those animals he’s got, I bet he’s read your stuff.”  
  
Dean would have missed the small clench of Luna’s jaw if it wasn’t such a foreign thing for her face to do. “Maybe,” she said in the same clipped off tone.  
  
“I am bloody exhausted,” Dean said, slouching back into the booth. “I’m almost regretting not taking that spot on _The Quibbler_ your father offered me, Luna.”  
  
He could tell Luna was pleased about the subject change, even though Dean had every intention to ask her about it at a later time.  
  
Dean didn’t make it much longer into the night at the bar; the mix of alcohol and being awake at a ridiculous hour had him yawning into his hand as they reminisced with Neville.  
  
“Ready to call it?” Seamus asked Dean, to which he nodded. After exchanging goodbyes with Neville, Hannah, and Luna, Dean and Seamus made their way towards their flat.   
  
Dean laughed as Seamus fumbled with the keys to the flat, feeling light and tired from the alcohol. Seamus shot him a look, and pushed the door open.  
  
“Seamus, Seamus,” Dean said as he closed the door behind him. When he turned around, Seamus was already on the couch leaning his head back against the wall. Dean looked at the pale skin on his neck for a second before he shook his head. Seamus turned, and Dean grinned and said, “Go use your own bed, or I will.”  
  
Seamus chuckled softly, the alcohol making his cheeks pink. “All right, mate.”  
  
Dean stood up straight and frowned. “Are you still having the dreams?”  
  
Seamus leaned forward and looked to the floor, scuffing his trainer against a scratch in the wood. “They come and go. The potions help.”  
  
Feeling awake and sobered at the sight of Seamus’ vulnerability, Dean crossed the room and sat next to Seamus. “Even here, at the flat?”  
  
Seamus shrugged. “They stopped for a while, sometimes I stay awake because then I know I won’t have them.”  
  
Unsure of what to say, Dean reached over and squeezed Seamus’ shoulder. He felt Seamus tense under his hand, so Dean sat forward to pull him into a hug, making Seamus laugh. Dean could feel the tension leave his best friend at a glacial pace; he lost track of time that night as they sat together in the quiet of their dimly lit apartment.  
  
It was everything Dean wanted; his friends nearby, with Seamus closest.


	3. three

To say the least, Seamus didn’t dream that night.  
  
In his current predicament, however, Seamus would almost prefer the dreams. He directly blamed the alcohol they consumed the previous night; there was no way, if he’d have been sober, he would have let himself fall asleep in Dean’s arms. There was no way he would let his feelings show that blatantly, and yet here he was after a few shots, waking up under his mother’s quilt with a cramp in his neck and his best friend’s arm resting on his chest.  
  
Every day they lived together Seamus felt like his feelings were more and more obvious. Dean had to know what it felt like for him to be comforted in the way he’d wanted for so long; he had to know what it meant to Seamus to feel Dean’s arms around him in such an intimate way.  
  
And of course, he wouldn’t say anything because he didn’t feel the same.  
  
As quietly and efficiently as he could, Seamus slid out from under Dean’s arm. Without looking back, Seamus made a beeline for the front door and left their flat. The morning sun was shining through the windows in the corridor, and Seamus squinted as he took the stairs down to the bar two at a time.  
  
At the rail of the bar, Seamus took the stool closest to the door leading out to Diagon Alley.  
  
“Good morning, Seamus,” Hannah said as she set a coaster in front of him. “Tea? We have beans and bacon with toast for breakfast today.”  
  
“I’ll take a tea with a Firewhisky,” Seamus said. Hannah smiled and set to grab the things, and Seamus was grateful it wasn’t Neville watching the bar at the early hour; he was sure Neville would comment that he was still in the clothes from the previous night, and he was sure his morning choice of beverage would find its way back to Dean.  
  
Hannah dropped off the two cups and gave Seamus another smile, before leaving him to tend to another table.  
  
Pouring the Firewhisky into the teacup in front of him, Seamus sighed. How could he have been so daft? Dean was intoxicated and exhausted the previous night, but surely he knew Seamus only had a few; Dean had to have figured out that Seamus only fell asleep because of the arms around him.  
  
He was so transparent. Moving in with Dean was supposed to help him get over his feelings for Dean, and here he was, two weeks in and sleeping in the boy’s arms.  
  
“Why, hello there.”  
  
Seamus blinked and looked up from the brown liquid in the cup in front of him to the man taking the seat next to him. It was the same swarthy man from the previous night; their neighbor that recognized Luna and had an apparent affiliation for loud animals.  
  
“’lo,” Seamus said with a nod. He watched the man’s eyes glance down to the whiskey in his hand, before he looked up to Seamus.  
  
Before Seamus could pull his drink away from judging eyes, Hannah walked over and greeted the man.  
  
“Good morning, Rolf; the usual?” she asked with a bright smile.  
  
Rolf grinned to her and pointed at Seamus’ glass. “I’ll have the same, and that beans and bacon sounds excellent.”  
  
Hannah nodded and poured him a Firewhisky, before heading back to the kitchen. When Seamus looked at him with a raised eyebrow, Rolf grinned.  
  
“You’re Irish, I’m American; we’re drinkers,” Rolf said.  
  
“You don’t sound very American,” Seamus pointed out.  
  
Rolf laughed. “I travel a lot, I was born in America but Britain is my home. Say, not to abruptly change the subject for my own sake, Miss Lovegood, she’s a friend of yours?”  
  
“More of a friend of Dean’s.” Seamus chuckled. “But yeah, sure. You know her?”  
  
“I’ve read some of her field articles, she’s one of the best,” Rolf said through a bite of breakfast.  
  
“Seems like you two both like those loud animals,” Seamus commented.  
  
Rolf chuckled awkwardly. “Right, should apologize about the noise. Teresa is nocturnal and in the winter, I’d just let her be outside at night, but it’s still too hot in London right now for her to be out and about.”  
  
“You don’t have to apologize to me,” Seamus said over the rim of his glass. He downed the rest of his Firewhisky and tea and slid the cup away.  
  
“Well, I’d love to buy you all a drink tonight if you’ll be in the bar again. It would be great to get to know Miss Lovegood and you and Dean, of course.”  
  
Seamus felt his stomach twist. Even though Rolf seemed more interested in Luna, he knew Dean thought Rolf was good looking. Standing from the bar stool, Seamus dug in his pocket and pulled out some coins.  
  
“Luna lives in 2A if you’d like to talk to her,” Seamus told him, dropping the coins on the bar top. Before Rolf could stand and try to follow or speak to him, Seamus left the back exit of The Leaky Cauldron towards Diagon Alley.  
  
Keeping his head down, Seamus walked through the bustling street towards the Apothecary. He knew exactly where in the shop he was going and didn’t want to stop and chat with any of the people bustling around the street. It was getting close to September so the alley was busier than normal, packed with new wizards and old trying to navigate the cobblestone street.  
  
In the Apothecary, Seamus ignored the aisle of love potions, ignored the acne treatment and the hair solutions and headed right for the section labeled Sleep Remedies. On the shelf, Seamus grabbed all four of the vials labeled _Dreamless Sleep_ and held them in one hand. Glancing at the shelf, he saw the vials labeled _Draught of Living Death_ on the shelf behind a magical barrier. They required a prescription from a Healer or a N.E.W.T. in Potions with ministry permission to purchase. Shaking his head, he headed towards the front of the shop.  
  
After setting the potions down on the counter, Seamus rifled through his pockets while the woman behind the counter punched the numbers into the ancient looking register.  
  
“Two Galleons, five Knuts,” she said, holding out her hand.  
  
Seamus fished and pulled out a small pile of coins, internally cursing himself for not counting what he was dumping on the bar top. He could hear Dean in the back of his head complaining about wizarding money as he sorted the coins on the counter. He counted out the equivalent of thirteen Sickles before he looked up to the cashier and gave her an awkward smile.  
  
The cashier slid to the edge of her stool and pulled back three of the _Dreamless Sleep_ bottles. In her other hand, she waved her wand and sent the coins from the counter into the register.  
  
“Next!”  
  
Seamus huffed, grabbed the vial and his extra coins, and stalked out of the shop. He squinted as he stepped into the sun from the dark shop, and tucked the vial into his pocket before heading back to The Leaky Cauldron. He knew a visit to Gringotts was in his future if he wanted more than one decent night of sleep, but Dean was off that day and going to his parents’ vault without Dean was out of the question.  
  
Time was supposed to heal all wounds, but Seamus felt like every passing day without his parents was worse and worse. He didn’t think anything would be worse than being pulled aside mid-celebration of their victory against Voldemort by Professor McGonagall to find out his parents were killed by death eaters looking for wizard-muggle mixed families. He remembered everything around him spinning; he remembered Dean running towards him, and the blur of months that followed. There was a funeral and Dean stayed with him in Ireland for almost four months before his Auror training started. Seamus was invited to the same course but wouldn’t have been able to pass any of the aptitude or fitness tests in the state he’d been in. He spent nights awake until dawn and dozed in the afternoon between flashes of his parents and flashes of the Carrows.  
  
Four years later his wounds still felt fresh and his dreams still seemed real.

  
The tables and the rail of The Leaky Cauldron were full of lunch patrons when Seamus got back, and he nodded to Neville behind the bar before heading up the stairs towards his flat. As the noise from the bustling eating area died down, he could hear laughter coming from inside his own flat. Bracing himself, Seamus grabbed the handle of the door. If Luna was visiting that meant that Dean wouldn’t make them have a conversation about sleeping on the couch together, and Seamus wouldn’t have to pretend it meant nothing as he laughed about being too drunk to make it to their own rooms.  
  
Seamus twisted the handle and entered their flat.  
  
Both Luna and Dean greeted him happily as he closed the door behind him. He made sure the vial was tucked far enough down in his pocket before he joined the pair in the kitchen.  
  
A small part of Seamus’ mind was bothered by the fact that Dean and Luna were alone together at their house. A small, greedy part that he knew was irrational; Dean mentioned many times that he and Luna considered themselves friends and nothing else, and Seamus knew that cooking breakfast together didn’t mean they’d start snogging on the couch.  
  
As always, Seamus pushed down his feelings and joined them.  
  
“Hey Luna, I saw your friend Rolf again at the bar this morning,” Seamus said as he reached towards the paper towel Dean was guarding. Dean swatted his hand and Seamus grinned, eating the piece of bacon he managed to snag. “’e’ asked about you again.”  
  
“Rolf Scamander is not my friend,” Luna said. Seamus watched a touch of red prickle across her cheeks. “He’s a Magizoologist for _The Daily Prophet_ that exploits our work at _The Quibbler_.”  
  
“He copies your stuff?” Seamus asked.  
  
“He just… _shows up_ at our research sites, chatty and polite, and then publishes articles the same as ours—”  
  
Seamus looked to Dean, who was grinning at Luna’s exasperation.  
  
“Luna, you told me you didn’t know the good-looking guy in the bar last night. Luna, why did you say you didn’t know the good-looking guy in the bar last night?”  
  
Seamus felt his stomach turn. Rolf didn’t just ask about Luna that morning.  
  
It wasn’t like Dean didn’t date around over the past years; Seamus was more than capable of pretending he was happy for Dean as he heard about the random girls and boys that Dean had first dates with. Nothing ever lasted more than one or two nights, but by now Seamus was used to Dean thinking anyone and everyone but him was attractive.  
  
It still hurt just the same.  
  
Seamus watched Dean laugh at Luna’s flustered rebuttal of his claims, and couldn’t help but join in his infectious laughter. It was so out of character for Luna to be flustered that he knew Dean was taking every advantage of it he could.  
  
Ignoring the feeling of the vial pressed against his leg, Seamus looked away from Dean’s smile and started up the coffeepot, joining in his friend’s laughter.


	4. four

Dean was having a good day.  
  
He woke up to his alarm clock thanks to Rolf being away for work. Despite Luna's poorly explained apprehension towards the man, Dean still found the time to say hello and chat him up while they were in the bar at the same time. With some persistence, Rolf agreed to move Teresa's cage away from the shared wall, muffling her noises enough that Dean could sleep through the night.  
  
In the kitchen, Seamus already had coffee made when Dean walked into the room. Dean knew it was because Seamus hadn't fallen asleep until after sun up, but as Seamus snored from the couch in the living room, Dean told himself to relax. After a long negotiation between them, Seamus agreed to try to take half of a vial of the sleep potion every night to see if there was any difference. He looked down the hall and into Seamus' room where his untouched bed sat made up and clean.  
  
At work that day, Dean spent his morning standing around the entrance to Gringotts, doing not much of anything besides drinking coffee. As much as Dean typically enjoyed vault trips, a break in the madness from the pre-September rush was appreciated that day.   
  
With Seamus' permission, he visited the Finnigan vault on his lunch break and withdrew enough for Seamus' half of rent and some spending money for the month. Dean spent a few moments looking at the portraits of Seamus' parents from their house in Ireland; he felt a lump in his throat when they both waved to him, familiar and happy.  
  
Hours before his shift ended, one of the senior goblins - Dean's boss - approached him. He stalked over with a frown that made Dean worry until he and told him he was sick of paying him for the day when no one was coming in. Dean grinned and thanked him, and after making a quick withdrawal of his own vault for his half of the rent, he booked it out of Gringotts. Hogwarts officially started that day, so the streets that were packed with young witches and wizards the days prior were now empty.  
  
The sun was shining over Diagon Alley his entire walk home from work; he threw his uniform jacket over his shoulder and let the warmth of the early September day touch his skin. He knew days like these were few and far between now that August was officially over, so Dean fully intended on enjoying it while he could.  
  
Inside the empty Leaky Cauldron, Dean walked up to the bar. Neville was standing on the other side, polishing empty glasses by hand.  
  
"September first seems like it should be more significant than this," Dean said as he took a seat at one of the stools.  
  
Neville chuckled, picking up another glass. "We haven't been this empty since Hannah bought the building."  
  
While Neville poured him a drink, Dean counted out their rent from both of the bags of Galleons he just got from Gringotts.  
  
"Any plans today?" Dean asked him after a long drink of beer.  
  
Neville held out his hands and gestured towards the empty bar. "Hannah's visiting family in Tutshill this weekend. It's the first time she's left since she bought it. What about you two?"  
  
"The Kestrals play Portree in Ireland tonight; Seamus and I are listening on the wireless and drinking every time McBride cries to the refs about Higgins."  
  
"And here I am pretending I'm disappointed I'm not invited," Neville said with a grin.  
  
Dean laughed. "You stick to the plants and the beer pouring and leave the sports to us." Neville chuckled while Dean finished his drink.  
  
"How is Seamus doing? With the move from Ireland and everything." Neville asked as he picked up Dean's empty glass.  
  
"Better, I think," Dean said with a small smile. "He's still using the potions to sleep but he's doing things when he's not sleeping. Yesterday he and Luna went plant shopping and filled our windowsill with green."  
  
Neville smiled at that and gestured towards the beer tap handle, questioning.  
  
"Wish I could," Dean told him, "Seamus'll murder me if I get more sloshed than him tonight. Portree is undefeated but he's still holding out for a miracle."  
  
Neville laughed at that. "If he needs to drown his wounds I'll be down here pouring for Tom and no one else for the night."  
  
With a quick wave, Dean set the coins for the beverage on the bar and stood from the stool. He felt himself relaxing as he walked up the steps, relieved he was home hours before he planned to be. He'd been working overtime with the desire to not have his mom and step-dad help with any of his expenses, and to not have to ask Seamus for money; it felt good to drop his half of the rent off to Neville without having to worry about being able to buy groceries that week.  
  
Dean opened the door to their flat and was about to call out Kenmare's fight song when he heard it. Quiet muttering and heavy breathing came from the living room where Seamus was dozing just a few hours prior. Dean dropped his uniform jacket on the floor of the entry way and walked directly for the living room.  
  
"Seamus?"  
  
Seamus' brow line was set in a deep furrow and his fingers clenched the duvet over him. His eyes were squished shut and there were tiny beads of sweat at his temples.  
  
Dean rushed over and knelt next to the couch. "Seamus? Seamus, mate, wake up."  
  
"No... _no,_ " Seamus muttered in his sleep, turning his head. His furrow deepened.  
  
Dean grabbed Seamus by the shoulders and shook him. "Seamus, wake up!"  
  
Seamus' eyes opened wide as he startled awake, grabbing the fabric of Dean's undershirt and twisting his fingers in it. "You-you're-"  
  
"It's okay," Dean told him, voice calm. "You're fine." He squeezed Seamus' shoulders and held on as Seamus' breathing slowed.  
  
Seamus' grip on Dean's shirt loosened. "I-it... you're alright." Seamus closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Dean watched him take a few more steadying breaths, slowly releasing Dean's shirt and dropping his hand on his stomach. He opened his eyes and looked from Dean's eyes from to where Dean's hand was still on his shoulder.  
  
Dean hastily removed his hand from Seamus' shoulder, jaw clenching as he did. It wasn't often that Seamus acted peculiar about the way Dean touched him, and Dean blamed it on his friend's heightened emotions from the way he woke from the nightmare. It was always so nonchalant that Dean knew Seamus didn't mean to pull away or tense up when Dean touched him, but it was enough that it still made him second guess his gestures and long for the way being close used to be easy for them both. He stood from his crouch next to Seamus and waited until Seamus moved his feet off the couch to sit next to him, making sure to leave space between them.  
  
After a moment's silence, Dean asked, "Is it the Carrows again?"  
  
Seamus leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. "Sometimes."  
  
"Seamus, you can talk to me," Dean said softly.  
  
He sighed, rubbing his balled-up fists against his eyes. His voice was hoarse when he said, "Sometimes it's the Carrows. Sometimes it's my parents... sometimes it's you."  
  
"Me?"  
  
Seamus huffed out a shaky breath of air; Dean could tell he was fighting back tears. "Yeah, you. I dream about losing you, the Carrows getting to you." Seamus paused and Dean waited. "You're my best friend, Dean. I can't lose you too."  
  
Dean forgot all about the Quidditch match. "You're not going to lose me, mate."  
  
Seamus looked up from the floor right to Dean. His eyes were bright in the setting sunlight, and Dean fought the urge to look away. "I know. The dreams just... they're so real when they're happening."  
  
"I know you're taking the potions, but, have you considered actually going to talk to someone about them? Professionally?" Dean asked. It wasn't like Seamus didn't have the time or the money to do so.  
  
"Healers'll just try and prescribe me with the same thing I'm already taking," Seamus told him. "So, I'm just going to keep doing that."  
  
Dean frowned, seeing where the conversation was going to go. Getting him to take only half of the potion had been enough of a burden, and he didn't want to fight with Seamus tonight. "Well, you know I'm always here if you want to talk about them, or anything."

  
Seamus held his eye contact, fighting sadness in a way that Dean felt deep in the pit of his stomach. He watched all of the things Seamus wanted to say fight across the clench of his jaw and the wrinkle in his forehead. Seamus fought them like he fought his own demons every day. Dean waited, refusing to look away.  
  
"I know," Seamus muttered.  
  
He waited until Seamus broke the eye contact to look away, giving Seamus a minute to calm down again before he clapped him on the back and squeezed his shoulder. Dean didn't want Seamus to spend their whole night reeling from the dream, so he plastered on a grin and said, "I can't believe you're not wearing a Kenmare kit right now; and you call yourself Irish."  
  
Surprised laughter burst from Seamus. Giving Dean a grateful smile that said so much more, Seamus told him, "I'll go change if you grab the first round."  
  
They both stood together and with a quick sidestep, Dean walked to the kitchen and grabbed all of the alcohol he could carry. Seamus returned just as he twisted open the first bottle of beer, wearing green and hauling his wireless radio. Dean took a slow drink out of the chilly bottle while Seamus fidgeted with the wireless.  
  
"Better hurry up or we'll miss McBride's opening speech about how unfair it is to their loyal fans that they're playing in Ireland tonight."  
  
Seamus' laugh filled the room. "If Higgins doesn't tell McBride where to shove his broomstick on the opening pitch I'll buy the next two rounds downstairs."  
  
Dean grinned at the easy smile that Seamus gave him. Seamus started going on again about Portree's Seeker and Dean watched the way he talked, the way his eyes lit up and the dark circles under them seemed to fade when he smiled.  
  
The space Dean put between them disappeared when Seamus sat back down, and Dean wondered if Seamus did it intentionally. His knee bumped against Dean's as he leaned forward to grab one of the beer bottles, twisting the cap and leaning back all in one motion. Dean stared at the way Seamus sat so casually with their knees together, trying to put together the touch in front of him with Seamus' expression from earlier in an equation that was ultimately impossible to solve.  
  
As soon as Seamus started belting out the Irish Anthem along with the wireless, Dean looked away from their knees and grinned at his best friend. He only knew some of the words but the alcohol in his system made it easy for him to shout along with Seamus.  
  
They fell into a comfortable, alcohol eased conversation as the match played in the background. Seamus reminisced about Ireland's win at the world cup as if it wasn't almost ten years ago that it happened, and Dean poured shots every time Kenmare scored against Portree. Quidditch was an easy topic for both of them and Dean let the feeling of warmth and light conversation wash over him. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the couch while Seamus listened to the match.   
  
It was a few insignificant plays later when Seamus asked, "Fallin' asleep on me? Éire hasn't even had a penalty yet."  
  
Dean peeked one eye open and lifted one side of his mouth in a smirk. "Some people have jobs, mate." Seamus laughed at that, but it was interrupted as Ireland scored another goal.  
  
Seamus bumped his knee against Dean's again as he sat forward to pour out two more shots. Dean didn't think he'd ever thought about Seamus' knee so much in a single sitting. There was a tear in the denim of his trousers and Dean couldn't stop staring at the pale skin he could see through it.  
  
Through the night, Dean could tell Seamus was still thinking about his nightmares, and Dean was too. Dean wished there was something more he could do, but if the best Dean could do for Seamus was sit and listen to a Quidditch match to the early hours of the morning, then that's what he was going to do. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay for early updates because easter weekend brunch prep (#fml). thanks to Sam and Kaitlin for the help with this one!


	5. five

There was no universe in which Dean Thomas didn’t know about Seamus Finnigan’s feelings for him.   
  
It was bad enough that Seamus was having a dream about Dean rejecting him, before morphing into Amycus Carrow putting him under the Cruciatus Curse; but to have Dean wake him up from the same dream had to be obvious. Even if Seamus tried to put emphasis on how they were best friends the entire night that followed, Dean had to have read the way Seamus was feeling written across his forehead.   
  
Sleep came and went to him after the end of the Quidditch match. Despite their best efforts, Kenmare lost, but if Seamus was asked he wouldn’t even remember the score. Dean ended up falling asleep on the couch, and Seamus left him be until the end of the match, knowing he wouldn’t want to sleep in a terrible position all night if he had to work the following morning. Sleep found Seamus sparingly after Dean closed his door.   
  
Currently, Dean was getting ready for work in the kitchen while Seamus pretended he was asleep on the couch. He tried to keep his breathing as steady as possible while he heard the crackle of their stovetop turning on and the water running to fill a kettle. Peeking one eye open, he watched Dean stifle a yawn as moved about the kitchen getting ready for his day at Gringotts.   
  
He watched the way his arms strained the fabric of his uniform as Dean reached into a high cupboard to grab a mug for tea; the way the light hit just right on the faded scar over the back of his hand as he poured hot water into the cup, a mark from the early days of Dumbledore’s Army. Seamus wanted to touch the one on the back of his own hand, but he wouldn’t risk moving and letting Dean know he was awake.   
  
Seamus heard Dean turn the stovetop off and shut his eyes, listened to him pour water for his tea and take a slow drink. He wished he could keep the sound of Dean’s small, satisfied sigh locked away for only himself to hear.   
  
As he heard steps coming from the kitchen towards the living room, Seamus did everything in his power to keep his breathing steady and his face expressionless. If his expression looked pained, Dean would know he was awake or would try to wake him up from a dream.   
  
Eventually Dean set his empty mug in the sink and Seamus heard the bolt on the door click open. Seamus waited until he heard Dean’s steps going towards the bar before he opened his eyes again.   
  
He knew there would be no way he would fall back asleep, so Seamus threw the duvet off of him as soon as he knew it was safe. He walked towards his room he started tugging off the clothes he wore the previous night, dropping them on the floor as soon as he stepped into his room. Grabbing clothes that could be considered professional, he quickly changed and left the flat.   
  
There was no way he could spend the day sitting around after the previous night. Every time Dean’s knee bumped into his was a bolt of electricity straight to his heart, and every mutual shot was a reason to come out and say what he was feeling. More than once he had the words on the tip of his tongue and couldn’t find a way to make them heard.   
  
Neville was at the bar chatting with Rolf and Luna when Seamus walked by, and Seamus noted that Luna and Rolf were actually sitting on two stools next to each other. Luna and Neville both laughed at something Rolf said, and Seamus was surprised that there wasn’t any of her normal aversion in her expression. It was definitely something that Dean would be interested in hearing.   
  
He waved to the three of them as he exited the bar towards Diagon Alley. Once he was on the quiet street he walked slowly past the shops, looking for something to take his mind off of Dean.

Stopping mid step, Seamus stared at the help wanted sign in the window of the Magical Menagerie. The corner of the sign was slightly chewed, making Seamus chuckle. Turning on his heel, he walked past a trolley full of empty owl cages before pulling open the door to the shop.   
  
Seamus couldn’t help but smile as he walked around the aisles. He remembered being young and coming into the Menagerie with his parents; he would always beg for an animal to bring to Hogwarts, and always was denied after his father refused to be the one that would end up taking care of it.   
  
There was a sudden outburst of barking, and Seamus walked past a cage of ferrets until he came across the source of the noise.   
  
In a large glass case lined with blankets was an entire litter of puppies with forked tails. Seamus looked around for any of the workers before reaching his arm into the open top and petting the one climbing up onto the glass. Immediately two more of them stumbled over and started licking his hand.   
  
“Can I help you find anything?”   
  
Seamus jumped and tugged his hand out of the enclosure. The guy was trying to hide his grin as he crossed his arms over his work apron.   
  
“They’re pretty adorable, aren’t they?” he said, reaching in and pulling one of the puppies. Seamus watched as both of the ends of the little Crup’s tail wagged happily against the guy’s dark hands.   
  
Seamus looked up. “Aren’t Crups supposed to be—”   
  
“Dangerous?” the guy finished. Seamus nodded. He grinned and said, “Depends how you raise them. It used to be practice to cut their tails off to hide them from Muggles, but Muggles will pretty much believe anything is a genetic deformity these days, so…” His sentence trailed off as the tiny animal tried to crawl up and lick his face. “Do you want to hold one?”   
  
Seamus looked down towards the enclosure to see the same puppy trying to climb the glass towards him. The shop worker stepped towards him and, with his free hand, picked up the Crup against the glass, handing it right to Seamus. Seamus laughed as the puppy immediately attacked his face with kisses.   
  
Letting the Crup settle into his chest, he asked, “How much are they?”   
  
“Thirty Galleons, but now that all of the Hogwarts students are gone, we’re having a special; fifty and we’ll include a bag of food and some other stuff to get you started with your new family member!”   
  
Family member. Seamus held his hand on the tiny ball of fur against his chest. Thoughts of his parents threatened to bubble so Seamus cleared his throat. He looked down to the dog. “What do you think?”   
  
The dog squirmed up until it could lick him, making Seamus laugh again. He looked to the smiling shop worker. “Yeah, okay, yeah I’ll take him.”   
  
The guy chuckled. “Her, actually. Do you want a boy? We have a few left.”   
  
Seamus looked into the enclosure again before looking down at the Crup in his hands. All of the dogs in the pen had white and brown fur, and the dog in his hand had one small white patch over one of her eyes, and the rest of her body was tan.   
  
“No, she’s the one,” Seamus told him. The shop worker smiled and nodded.   
  
Seamus followed the guy around the shop as he collected all of the things Seamus would need to take care of the dog. Somewhere in the back of his head he remembered that he meant to come in and look for a job, but taking care of one dog seemed like a way better use of his time.   
  
Carrying the puppy, he walked down an aisle of pet accessories, stopping when he got to the collars. He grabbed one that was patterned with red and gold and stitched with tiny lions, laughing to himself. There were ones from every Hogwarts house.   
  
He carried the Crup and the collar towards the front register where the shop worker was waiting for him. Seamus set the collar down with the rest of the items. The guy behind the counter grinned as he added it to the tiny charmed bag he was loading everything into. Once the total was displayed on the register, Seamus set the Crup on the counter while he counted out the coins. After thanking the shop worker he took all of his purchases and left the shop.   
  
As soon as they were outside the puppy started to squirm in his hands.   
  
“What’s wrong? D’you want to walk yourself?” Seamus stopped and dug through the bag, pulling out the Gryffindor collar and the leash the shop worker included in his purchase. The collar was a little big but Seamus figured she would grow into it, and he clipped it on the tightest clasp. After hooking up the leash to the collar, Seamus put her on the ground.   
  
As soon as she was on the ground she started whining and pawing at his trainer.   
  
“Really?” Seamus asked her, laughing as she tried to jump up his leg. He bent down and picked her back up, unclipping the leash from her collar. She instantly settled into his arms and Seamus rolled his eyes, carrying her back towards the Leaky Cauldron.   
  
Just outside of the door into the Leaky Cauldron, Seamus put the dog down in one of the patches of grass. He watched as she walked around slowly sniffing around in the flowers Neville had planted out there.   
  
“Be careful, you,” he warned her, “Neville won’t like it if you hurt any of his plants.” He had to think of a name so she wouldn’t start getting used to ‘You’ or ‘The Dog’.   
  
The door from the Leaky Cauldron opened and Seamus whistled to call his dog over to him. She ran right over happily and he bent down to pick her up. He turned around and smiled when he saw Rolf walking towards him.   
  
“A Crup!” Rolf said happily. Looking to Seamus for permission – to which Seamus nodded – Rolf reached over and happily scratched behind her ears. “I heard the Menagerie had a litter of these little beasts up for adoption.” Rolf laughed when she squirmed to be put down. Seamus granted her wish and she ran back over towards Neville’s flowers.   
  
“You know,” Rolf continued, “One of my grandfather’s books rates Crups at a three on the Ministry’s Beast Classification scale, but they really have become very domesticated over the last fifty or so years. What does Dean think of her?”   
  
It felt very much as if Seamus had been hit by a stunning spell. Rolf stared as Seamus felt his expression turn to horror.   
  
“Dean doesn’t know, does he?” Rolf asked, an amused smile forming.   
  
Seamus swore and pulled the dog from the flower bed. After looking at Rolf again – who was now fully laughing at his expense, Seamus gathered all of the things he bought for the dog and went inside the Leaky Cauldron.   
  
Neville was still at the bar when he got inside, and he walked right up to him.    
  
Neville spoke first. “You have a dog.”   
  
“Uh, if you see Dean can you not tell him that?” Seamus asked. “It’s – a surprise,” Seamus told him unconvincingly.   
  
“I won’t tell Dean if you tell me why your dog has one of my poppy flowers in her mouth,” Neville said, raising an eyebrow.   
  
Seamus looked down and clicked his tongue. “Don’t eat that,” he scolded, pulling the red flower out of her mouth. She immediately tried to grab it from his hand again.   
  
“Bring her in the grass on the side of the building; that’s where Rolf takes out all of his animals,” Neville told him. “Does Dean’s ‘surprise’ have a name?” Neville asked. Seamus didn’t appreciate the finger quotes he put up around surprise.    
  
Seamus looked down to her and looked to the flower in his hand, laughing to himself. “Poppy?” he asked her. She squirmed up to lick his face, making Neville laugh. “I guess I’m going to call her Poppy,” Seamus told him, grinning.   
  
Neville shook his head, chuckling, and Seamus waved goodbye.   
  
“Okay, Poppy,” Seamus said as he took her upstairs. “We need to figure out what to do about this.” As soon as he was inside his flat he kicked off his trainers and put Poppy on the ground. He whistled so she would follow him into his room, where he dumped out all of the things he purchased for her on his bed. He spent some time setting up a little bed for her in his room and put a food and water bowl in their kitchen where it wouldn’t be completely obvious the second Dean walked in. He let her get comfortable on his bed as he tried to come up with a reasonable excuse as to why he bought a Crup without talking to Dean.   
  
There was one idea Seamus had, but he wasn’t sure if he could bring himself to say the words out loud. He knew sometimes Muggles used dogs as helper animals in cases of depression or other issues, and even if it was a stretch, he knew the idea of Seamus getting help that wasn’t in the form of potion bottles would make Dean thrilled.   
  
Now all he had to do was figure out a way to actually say it.   
  
“Poppy, come here,” Seamus said, patting the edge of the bed. She looked up when Seamus started talking, tilting her head. “Poppy, come,” Seamus said again. He wasn’t sure if she was listening or just wanted attention, but she dropped the tiny toy she was playing with and trotted over to him. He scratched her behind her ears and knelt so he was level with her. “When Dean comes home you have to stay in here so I can explain to him first,” he told her.   
  
Poppy licked his nose.   
  
Seamus could already feel his heart breaking if Dean said no to keeping her.   
  
While they waited for the inevitable, Seamus let Poppy wander around their flat, following closely behind her. He made sure to show her where her new food and water dishes were, and laughed when she jumped right on the couch and dug her way under the balled up blankets.   
  
Her favorite thing by far was the tiny stuffed Quaffle that squeaked he found in the pet shop. Seamus sat on the couch and threw it across the living room for a while, letting her run after it and bring it back. She never quite seemed to tire out, a problem that Seamus would worry about at a later moment.   
  
The moment she heard footsteps coming up the stairs and perked her ears up, Seamus stood from the couch.   
  
“Come on, Poppy,” Seamus called, waving the stuffed Quaffle. When it caught her attention he threw it down the hallway towards his bedroom. She fell for the bait and chased after it. As soon as she got into his room Seamus heard the door to the flat open.   
  
Poppy also heard it.   
  
Before he could swing his bedroom door shut, Poppy bolted out of his room and towards the source of the noise.   
  
“Shit, fuck,” Seamus said as he chased her towards the living room. “Poppy!”   
  
When Seamus made it to the front door, Dean was kneeling down petting an obnoxiously excited Poppy.   
  
“Is this a Crup?” Dean asked, grinning up to Seamus.   
  
“Yes.”   
  
“Wicked,” Dean said; “Are you babysitting for Rolf or something?” Dean asked, laughing as Poppy tried to jump up and lick him. Seamus was really glad Dean was too occupied with Poppy to see the way Seamus’ heart was melting at the sight of them together. Dean looked up at him expectantly.   
  
“What?” Seamus asked.   
  
“The Crup?” Dean asked, pointing at Poppy. “Is it Rolf’s?”   
  
Dean looked up at Seamus when Seamus didn’t speak. Seamus knew his mouth was hanging open.   
  
“Is this your dog? Did you go and buy a dog today?” Dean asked, hand stopping mid-pat. When Poppy realized she wasn’t getting attention from Dean, she trotted back over to Seamus and started whining at his foot.   
  
_ She’ll help me _ .  _ She’ll help with the black hole of sleepless nights and nightmare filled days. _ __   
__   
He couldn’t bring himself to say it.   
  
“I… went out to look for a job and—yeah, I got a dog. She—her name’s Poppy.”   
  
Seamus watched Dean look back to her again. He looked from the dog to him a few times, and Seamus would give anything to be able to know what he was thinking. He wondered if Dean was thinking the same thing he couldn’t bring himself to say.   
  
He felt his gut twist as he forced himself to say, “I can bring her back if you don’t like her.”   
  
Dean looked up from Poppy, his expression twisting. “What? No! I wouldn’t… sorry, she’s brilliant, I’m just—”   
  
“Processing?” Seamus asked hopefully.   
  
He waited for Dean to say something, anything else. Instead, Dean looked away from him. “Poppy, huh? Why’d you pick that?” At the sound of her name, Poppy trotted back over to Dean, basking in his attention.   
  
“She was trying to eat Neville’s flowers outside earlier,” Seamus said, and was rewarded with Dean’s laughter. He knelt so they were at the same level and laughed as Poppy couldn’t decide who she wanted attention from more.   
  
Seamus wasn’t sure if Dean fully understood how much it meant to him that he was okay with Poppy staying, but Seamus was sure he might have just fallen a little more in love with him for it. 


	6. six

Dean couldn’t believe the change he saw in Seamus after getting Poppy. For the entire week after, Seamus spent every night in his own bedroom. Apparently, Poppy wouldn’t sleep in the dog bed Seamus purchased her, to Seamus’ feigned annoyance; she would whine at the foot of the bed until Seamus would help her up. Soon enough she’d be big enough to just jump up – she was growing insanely fast – but until then Seamus helped her up every night, which Dean would never admit how endearing he found it.   
  
Most importantly, Dean thought, Seamus was sleeping at night and was awake during the day. There were even a few days where Seamus was already awake and on a walk with Poppy when Dean got up for work. He was teaching Poppy all sorts of tricks in his spare time, and Poppy was basking in the love of everyone around them.   
  
Dean loved having Poppy in the flat. Both of his step-sisters were allergic to dogs so Dean’s parents never had pets around the house or allowed him to have one for Hogwarts.   
  
Of course, Seamus was Poppy’s favorite, with Dean at a very close second. Dean got a lot of entertainment out of seeing Luna and Rolf vie for her attention. Poppy clearly favored Luna, a fact that Rolf constantly pouted about when they were over visiting. Dean smiled as he remembered laughing with Seamus from the couch as Rolf and Luna threw Poppy’s stuffed Quaffle between themselves. Seeing Luna get along with Rolf made Dean ecstatic; he could tell, as much as Luna tried to hide it, that she was growing fonder of Rolf every day. Even more so, Dean loved watching Seamus smile and laugh at Poppy as she performed her tricks for the both of them.   
  
“Thomas!”   
  
Dean jumped and looked down to where one of the senior goblins was snapping his fingers. He could only reach to Dean’s waist but Dean still cringed.   
  
“Sorry.” He would never hear the end of it if he got fired because he was thinking about Seamus instead of watching the people that were coming in. He looked to the clock and rolled his eyes; his shift was over in ten minutes, the goblin was probably just on his way over to let Dean leave.   
  
“Pay attention!” the goblin grunted. “Nagnok has a high-risk client that needs to make a vault run. Go with him.”   
  
Dean bit his lip to keep from groaning. Nagnok was a bastard.   
  
“Got it,” Dean told the senior goblin. With a grunt, the goblin waddled away from him. If he tried to argue that it would extend well past his shift Nagnok would personally make sure he drove the cart as slow as he possibly could.   
  
Dean dragged his feet towards the entrance to the vaults. When clients were flagged as high risk a wizard was required to accompany them to the vaults in case the client acted up. He never really knew what he was going to get when he was called on a vault trip. Sometimes they were ex-Death Eaters, sometimes they were random people that caused problems on their previous visits, and sometimes they were just students that were in Slytherin during Voldemort’s regime. Dean didn’t pretend to understand what actually qualified someone as high-risk in the eyes of the goblins. On one memorable occasion, Dean got to accompany Harry Potter to his vault, flagged after his famous break-in during his hunt to end Voldemort.   
  
At the vault entrance, Dean nodded to Nagnok in greeting. He hoped that if he said nothing to the goblin, Nagnok would get the hint and not talk back.   
  
If only he could be so lucky.   
  
“We’ve got a slimy little Slytherin today, Deany,” Nagnok said with a disgusting grin.   
  
Dean made a noncommittal noise and turned away from Nagnok. He looked over to the counters where another guard was waving his wand over the client. He was dark skinned with a clean haircut and as far as Dean could tell, he looked to be near the same age as Dean.   
  
“Deany,” Nagnok said from behind him. “Deanyyy.”   
  
Dean turned around and gave the goblin an exasperated look. “What, Nagnok?”   
  
“Do you know that slimy little Slytherin, Deany?”   
  
“I don’t know, Nagnok.” Dean gritted his teeth together.   
  
When Dean turned back the client was being released from security. Dean blinked and frowned, surprised that he did actually recognize him.   
  
Dean hadn’t seen Blaise Zabini since sixth year at Hogwarts, nearly six years prior. He remembered loathing him mostly for the fact that he was a prick and hung out with Draco Malfoy and the blood purity club, and a little bit because he was very, very good looking.   
  
Six years later he was no longer labeled a Voldemort advocate and still pretty good looking.   
  
“Dean Thomas, bloody hell!” Blaise said as he walked up to them. Blaise held out his hand to shake and Dean grabbed it. Dean watched Blaise’s eyes rake up and down his body.   
  
“Blaise,” Dean said with a nod. He wasn’t quite sure how they went from never speaking in school to being excited to see each other in the real world, but he supposed time had a way of patching things up.   
  
“Vault 495,” Nagnok grunted. “Right this way.”   
  
“Man, it’s mad seeing you here. How have you been?” Blaise asked, yelling over the noise inside the vault area. They climbed into the back seat of the cart while Nagnok settled into the front.   
  
“Uh—swell; finished Auror Basics a few months ago and got this job right after,” he paused awkwardly and forced himself to ask, “How about you?”   
  
The cart rattled along the track that Dean could have sworn was only held together with magic. He was used to the twisting ride but most of their clients weren’t. The cart took a sharp turn to the left and he braced himself for the cart to smash Blaise’s body against his.   
  
“Sorry!” Blaise shouted over the rattling cart. They leveled out as they sped past all of the higher vaults and Dean waited for Blaise to move back to his side of the cart. He knew Nagnok was driving like an idiot on purpose.   
  
“I’ve been doing alright,” Blaise said. “Living in Wiltshire and trying to keep a job, you know.” Blaise was turned sideways in the cart and obviously looking to make conversation. His knee was bumped against Dean’s and it reminded Dean of the night of the Kenmare game with Seamus, and he looked down so Blaise wouldn’t see him hiding a smile.   
  
Since the Zabini vault was relatively new – Dean suspected it was a first or second generation – the ride to it would be quick. Dean grabbed onto the bar in front of him as Nagnok sped past the 450’s, and nodded at Blaise to do the same. Seconds later, just as Dean suspected, Nagnok slammed on the brakes of the cart and stopped them.   
  
“Vault 495.”   
  
Dean resisted the urge to call him an arse.   
  
Blaise was out of the cart before him and turned to Dean. “I suppose you get stuck on these quite a bit with old Slytherins, don’t you?” Blaise was staring at him as he hopped out of the cart. When he looked up Blaise was waiting for him, ignoring Nagnok waddling over to the vault entrance.   
  
Dean shrugged. “Breaks the day of standing at the front door up a bit.”   
  
With a loud laugh, Blaise said, “Right then, well I’ll try and be quick.”   
  
According to his job code, Dean was required to stand by the car with his wand in his hand, so that’s what he did. He was required to give the high-risk client space and give them a chance to do the right thing, but he had to be ready in case something happened.   
  
As Nagnok opened the Zabini vault Dean stared at Blaise. The little bit of Hogwarts regarding Blaise Zabini that Dean could remember involved Blaise being a general standoffish prick. He supposed that being away from Draco Malfoy and the other Slytherins would lighten up anyone’s personality.   
  
He leaned against the cart and sighed. If he would have just been paying attention he could already be on his way back to the flat and he might have even made it on time to join Seamus on Poppy’s walk. He smiled; Poppy got to walk through Diagon Alley every day and was completely spoiled by all of the permanent residents. If it wasn’t animal-safe ice cream from the recently reopened Fortescue's, it was charmed toys from Ron or George Weasley that she could chase around the flat and terrorize.   
  
After grabbing the things he needed from his vault, Blaise sauntered back over to the cart. While Nagnok relocked the Zabini vault, Dean gestured for Blaise to get onto the cart. When Dean made to follow him, Blaise was standing at the entrance offering a hand up. Blaise shot him a very coy smile when Dean grabbed the sides of the cart and pulled himself up.   
  
Nagnok drove like a maniac back to the entrance of the vaults; Dean was grateful that Blaise was too occupied with holding onto his belongings and the cart to try and make more awkward small talk.   
  
It was procedure at Gringotts to walk a high-risk client out after their vault visit, so Dean made sure his boss knew he was  _ not _ doing anything else for the day before escorting Blaise out of the bank.   
  
“Well,” Blaise said, scratching the back of his head. “I hope you are very happy with whomever you’re seeing these days. Personally, this has been a very embarrassing Gringotts visit.”   
  
Dean stared at him, baffled. “I – what? I’m not seeing anyone.”   
  
“Oh, come off it,” Blaise said, “I know Gryffindors aren’t that dense and I know I’ve aged well enough. I can tell when I’m striking out, especially if it’s that badly.” Blaise shook his head, laughing to himself. “I’ll see you around, Thomas.”   
  
Before Dean could figure out what the hell just happened, Blaise walked away and into one of the shops. Dean stared after him.   
  
Blaise Zabini was not the kind of person that hit on people like Dean. Blaise was not the kind of person that would admit to hitting on Dean so openly, and Dean certainly wasn’t the type of person that didn’t realize when he was being hit on.   
  
Right?   
  
Since he was done for the day he didn’t bother going back in to Gringotts; he had more than enough of Nagnok and the other goblins for the day. He had the urge to follow Blaise and ask him what the hell he was on about, but he resisted and started towards the Leaky Cauldron.   
  
Blaise thought he was seeing someone? That was a laugh. Between the move to London and his new job, Dean hardly had time to think about dating. Sure, there were a few first dates over the years, but nothing really lasted more than that. The only person in his life besides Seamus was Luna, and at this point if Dean was at all in the way of Luna finally getting together with Rolf, he would never forgive himself.   
  
Dean tried to forget Blaise. The sun was shining and he was ready to spend one of the last nice days of autumn outside with Seamus and Poppy. He stopped at one of his and Seamus’ favorite places on Diagon Alley – besides Hannah’s cooking – and grabbed takeout, before tapping his wand through the bricks and entering the Leaky Cauldron.   
  
Hannah was back from her vacation and Dean waved at her as he cut through the bar towards the staircase to the flats. She was pouring drinks for two new people that just moved in, two girls who had cats that wandered the building and tormented Poppy.   
  
Out of habit, Dean opened the door to the flat quietly in case Seamus was sleeping. He draped the jacket of his uniform over a chair and kicked off his shoes, listening for Poppy’s nails on the floor as she raced towards him. When she didn’t greet him, Dean set the food in the kitchen and walked further into the flat.   
  
Dean felt a big thud in his chest at the same time he wished for a camera. Seamus was asleep on the couch with Poppy on top of him; his arm was hanging off as he snored quietly, his other hand on Poppy’s head like he fell asleep midway through petting her. Poppy sat up on Seamus’ chest and started softly wagging her tail when Dean entered the room; Dean used it as an excuse to move even closer and pick her up. He stood above Seamus and listened for the moment his breath hitched just enough that it let Dean know he was awake.   
  
“D’you get food?” Seamus asked softly. In his current state the lines of exhaustion that usually plagued Seamus’ face were smoothed with the ease of waking up without a nightmare. When Dean didn’t answer, Seamus opened his eyes. “Dean? Food?”   
  
“Uh – yeah, mate, in the kitchen,” Dean said, shaking his head. He pulled Poppy closer to him as Seamus closed his eyes again.   
  
Seamus chuckled to himself. “Y’all right, mate? Busy day at work?”   
  
“S’okay,” Dean said, “Only one vault run.”   
  
Dean watched the way the crooked grin stayed as Seamus chuckled again. His hair stuck up as he moved to sit and Dean stared when Seamus dragged his fingers through it to try and smooth it down.   
  
Blaise was right. There was someone else, and it wasn’t someone besides Seamus.   
  
It was Seamus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Renee for helping me figure out some of the plot of this chapter, and to Jill and Bianca for helping me make it through the tough spots in this chapter.


	7. seven

Seamus didn’t know if he could quite pinpoint the moment he noticed a change in Dean. It was gradual, like Dean was slowly testing the waters to see if it was too cold to go in.   
  
Seamus wished he would just jump.   
  
It felt like Dean was purposely pushing the boundaries of their friendship just to see how Seamus would react. Seamus would be sitting on the couch and Dean would sit  _ right _ next to him. If Seamus took Poppy for a walk, Dean would go with and brush their hands together. It was everything Seamus wanted right in front of him; he felt like his feet were just out of reach of the bottom of the deep end.   
  
If Dean needed to jump, Seamus was already drowning.   
  
Like the predicament he was in now.   
  
It started out just the two of them in the half-circle shaped booth down in the bar; Dean wanted food and Seamus didn’t want to go anywhere, so they easily compromised and decided to eat downstairs. At first Dean sat on the opposite side of the booth from him, where they inhaled food and beer to their hearts’ content. It was just fine and Seamus could breathe easily the entire time.   
  
Until, of course, Luna and Rolf joined them.   
  
As soon as Dean saw the pair headed towards the bar rail he called them over to join; a gesture Seamus was more than okay with, until he realized it meant that Dean planned to make room for them by sliding around the booth and sitting  _ right next to Seamus _ .   
  
Their thighs touched, and Seamus started drowning again.   
  
“Hello, Dean,” Luna said happily, “Seamus.”   
  
“Hey, mates,” Rolf said. Neville was over a moment later to drop off drinks for Luna and Rolf. Dean pointed to his and Seamus’ empty glasses, asking Neville for another round.   
  
Seamus greeted both of them at the same time Dean did; Seamus was just grateful his voice didn’t squeak and reveal his current state of panic. Dean’s body was against his from knee to shoulder, and Seamus felt like every place they touched was on fire.   
  
“Big plans tonight?” Rolf asked them.   
  
Dean gestured towards the empty plates and glasses in front of them, making Rolf chuckle. “Getting sloshed and not thinking about work,” Dean said with a grin.   
  
“Same as us, then,” Rolf said, turning to Luna with a bright smile. “Though, not too sloshed; we’re going on a hike tomorrow afternoon to investigate rumors of a Doxy nesting grounds a few hours south of here.”   
  
Seamus laughed. “Tomorrow afternoon? You can still get plenty sloshed tonight.”   
  
When Dean laughed, his knee pressed harder against Seamus’.   
  
When Luna laughed louder than any of them, Rolf looked at her the way Seams felt about Dean. He looked to Dean and grinned at his best friend’s excited expression.   
  
Neville brought over another round of drinks right on cue, and Seamus tugged the frosty glass towards him, taking a long drink. He needed to shake the thoughts rampaging through his mind about Dean, and alcohol was a surefire way to do that.   
  
Out of the corner of his eye, Seamus watched Dean’s thumb wipe the drips of condensation forming on the outside of the glass. He looked at the way his fingers tapped on it one at a time, and closed his eyes when he felt the movement of Dean’s muscles against his own arm. He took another drink of his beer.   
  
Seamus tuned in and out to the conversation going on at the table; Dean was asking questions about Rolf and Luna’s plans, and nodding along and laughing appropriately. Seamus tried to keep up with it where he could, but he felt himself getting lost in his thoughts.   
  
Surely, Dean was testing him to see how far he could push before Seamus would push back. Rejection was easier if things were out in the open instead of just speculated. Seamus lifted his glass and emptied his beer.   
  
The effects of the alcohol to his system were doing the opposite of what Seamus wanted. He felt himself pressing into the touch of Dean’s thigh, joining in the laughter that rang out at their table at a joke of Rolf’s.   
  
“We should go,” Rolf said after, looking to Luna pointedly. Seamus wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or a mix of something else, but Luna’s cheeks were pink with happiness.   
  
“Talk to you tomorrow, Dean?” Luna asked. Dean nodded his head, and the pair exited the booth. Seamus watched the easy way Rolf’s hand hovered at the small of Luna’s back as he walked her towards the staircase; not quite touching, but a gentle reminder of concern.   
  
Seamus fought with his own head to be the one to move away from Dean, and like always, he let his own demons win.   
  
He looked up at the sound of a glass hitting the table, to see Neville setting a shot in front of him. The liquid was brown and sloshed against the side. He looked up to Neville. “I didn’t order that.” Not that he was arguing if Neville was buying, of course.   
  
Neville grinned cheekily at him. “You didn’t, she did.”   
  
Seamus frowned, confusion and alcohol mixing disastrously. His line of vision followed to where Neville was pointing, towards a girl with short red hair sitting at the bar rail. She looked up from her drink when she saw him, before looking down and smiling to herself. She was one of the new residents, one of the girls with all of the cats that tormented his dog. He looked back to Neville.   
  
“For me?”   
  
Neville laughed and walked back to his bar, so Seamus looked at Dean. He knew disbelief was plastered across his face. Seamus was not the kind of person people just sent drinks to. People sent drinks to the tall dark and handsome guy sitting next to him.   
  
_ Right _ next to him.   
  
Dean grinned to him, and Seamus watched the skin around his eyes crinkle just a little too much, watched the way his eyes seemed to say something that his expression wasn’t. Suddenly what was comfortable bumps of elbows through laughter felt like awkward brushes of too hot skin.   
  
It felt like a gasp of fresh air and the pop of a bubble when Dean slid apart from him in the booth. Seamus didn’t think it was possible to feel relief and disappointment from the same action, but here he was.   
  
“Bloody hell,” Dean said happily, “and here I was thinking you’d never get yourself another girl.”   
  
Dean was grinning at his own joke, and Seamus wondered if he knew that Seamus could read every expression he’d ever seen Dean make.   
  
This expression was faking happiness, and Seamus knew his own matched.   
  
Seamus laughed along with Dean and reached for the shot glass, twisting it back and forth in his fingers. He stared at the way the brown liquid seemed to stay in place even as the glass around it was moving.   
  
If the universe was giving him some kind of shitty metaphor for his and Dean’s friendship, Seamus read it loud and clear.   
  
“I’m knackered,” Seamus said, punctuating the sentence with a very real yawn. “Poppy’s probably dying for a leak.”   
  
Dean chuckled. “Thought you’d never say so.”   
  
They both left a small pile of coins on the table for their food and drinks, before standing. Seamus stretched his arms over his head, feeling the pleasant rush of alcohol that standing caused. He avoided looking towards the bar as they walked towards the staircase, shoulders bumping as they climbed the staircase in tandem.   
  
“Want me to take her out?” Dean asked as Seamus turned the key to their flat. Poppy was at the door wagging her forked tail happily as they entered, and Seamus bent down to pick her up. She’d more than doubled her size since he got her, and it wouldn’t be long before lifting her would be too much of a hassle.   
  
“Nah, mate, I’ve got it,” Seamus said, waving Dean off. “See you tomorrow?”   
  
Dean grinned, scratching at the back of his head. “I have the day off, bloody finally. I am not waking up until at least noon.” Dean stood in the entryway to their kitchen, leaning against the wall. He was smiling, and crossed his arms against his chest.   
  
When he realized they were just looking at each other, and Dean was waiting for him to talk, Seamus broke the eye contact and looked to Poppy. He scratched behind Poppy’s ears and after a beat said, “Right then, I’ll be right back.”   
  
So he wouldn’t have to look at Dean again, Seamus spun on his heel and slipped out of the flat.   
  
“Fucking hell,” Seamus said to Poppy as he carried her down the back staircase. “Fucking shit, Poppy, this is bad.”   
  
Outside, Seamus flipped up the hood of his jumper before setting Poppy in the small patch of grass. He scrubbed his hand over his face, exhaling into his palm.   
  
He needed to do damage control. He pushed too far, pushed too much, and Dean saw right through him. He had to talk to Dean before his feelings ruined their friendship.   
  
When Poppy was finished outside Seamus picked her back up and headed in. Maybe since Dean had off the following day, Seamus could suggest something for them to do that didn’t require the sudden closeness of the bar. They could listen to a Quidditch match on opposite ends of the couch or go visit Dean’s family and play football with his sisters.   
  
Whatever they did, it needed to be something that would start Seamus on the path of getting over Dean.   
  
He needed to. Dean was his best friend, and spending every moment they were together thinking about him as more was too much. Poppy helped with the nightmares, but Seamus had to do something about what happened when he  _ could _ control things.   
  
He already knew that he’d be taking the whole bottle of  _ Dreamless Sleep _ when he got upstairs; Dean would be disappointed, but if Seamus didn’t take the whole amount he knew he would be awake all night thinking about what happened in the bar. Poppy squirmed as they got close to their flat, so Seamus put her on the ground and dug out his keys.   
  
“Alright, alright,” Seamus told her, twisting his key in the lock. “He’s already asleep, so I don’t know what you want.” he rolled his eyes when Poppy looked up to him, panting happily.   
  
Seamus twisted the handle and let her bolt into the flat, laughing as he followed her. When he looked up, he jumped, laughter turning sharp and surprised. Dean stood a few paces in front of him; his arms were crossed and for the first time in Seamus’ life, he couldn’t read the expression on his face.   
  
Seamus felt his heart still in his chest. Before he could ask what was wrong, Dean spoke. “You didn’t take the shot.”   
  
Dean took a step forward. Seamus closed the door behind him. Dean let his arms fall to his side. Seamus stared at Dean’s parted lips.   
  
“I didn’t.”   
  
Another step.   
  
Dean’s fingers were on Seamus’ cheek, his palm touched his jaw. Seamus’ back was against the door.   
  
Dean’s lips were on his.   
  
If loving Dean was like drowning, this was like flying.   
  
Seamus gasped when he felt Dean’s mouth open against his, and moved his hands to Dean’s waist to pull him closer. All of the explosions he ever caused would never match the way his heart threatened to beat out of his chest, and any jinx that had ever been shot at him was nothing compared to the way his legs felt like they were about to give out from under him.   
  
Dean’s other hand was on the wall right next to Seamus’ head, and Seamus dragged his fingers up Dean’s side and to his arm. Dean’s mouth was harder against Seamus as he moved his hand, only to twist their fingers together and pin Seamus’ hand back against the wall.   
  
He wasn’t sure if it was seconds or minutes before Dean pulled back, but not before Seamus chased his mouth and kissed him once more. Dean laughed against his mouth, and Seamus did the same.   
  
“Bloody hell,” Seamus whispered.   
  
Dean laughed again, closed his eyes, and rested his forehead against Seamus’. When Dean laughed, Seamus could feel it in the touch of their foreheads, under his fingers and in the sharp breath of air on his lips.   
  
“That’s one way of putting it,” Dean said.   
  
There were so many things Seamus wanted to say, so many things he wanted to ask.   
  
Seamus closed his eyes. “Tell me this isn’t the alcohol,” he whispered.   
  
He didn’t think his heart would go back together if this was nothing more a drunken mistake.   
  
Dean’s mouth was against his again, a soft, reassuring touch of lips. “No.” Another touch. “I had like two beers.” A longer touch. “I’m not that much of a bloody lightweight.”   
  
Seamus let out a surprised laugh.   
  
Dean dropped his hand from Seamus’ cheek and squeezed his shoulder, standing up straight. “This is… definitely real,” he looked to Seamus’ eyes. “For me, at least.”   
  
Seamus stared back at him. “You have no idea, do you?”   
  
“What?”   
  
“Mate, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” Seamus said, giddy, electrified laughter escaping.   
  
Dean dropped his hand, and suddenly no part of Dean was touching Seamus.   
  
_ Well, that wouldn’t do. _ __  
__  
“How long?” Dean asked quietly.   
  
Seamus took a deep breath. Without answering, he walked past Dean and towards his room. He exhaled softly when he heard Dean’s footsteps behind him.   
  
Inside his room, Seamus grabbed a picture off of his wardrobe. It was one of his favorites, one of them in fifth year at a Dumbledore’s Army lesson. He watched a younger version of himself cast a corporeal Patronus as Dean watched in awe from across him.   
  
He handed the picture to Dean. “About that long.”   
  
Dean held the picture like he was going to break it. He looked up to Seamus. “Why didn’t you tell me?”   
  
Seamus looked to the ground and huffed. “A lot of reasons.” Looking up, he asked, “how long for you?”   
  
“Last week,” Dean said, and laughed when Seamus made a face of offended disbelief. “I mean, it’s probably been longer, but I figured it out last week when we got Zupitas.”   
  
“I told you they put something in that soup,” Seamus said, to Dean’s delighted laughter.   
  
And because he finally,  _ finally _ knew he could, Seamus kissed the laughter right from Dean’s lips. Seamus felt Dean’s hands on his cheeks again, and he wondered if that was going to be a thing of his. There were still so many things Seamus wanted to know about Dean.   
  
Like, what would Dean do if Seamus twisted his fingers into Dean’s shirt and took a step back towards his bed? What if Seamus turned them around so the back of Dean’s knees bumped into his bed? Would Dean sit back on his bed and let Seamus climb on top of him? Would Dean gasp into his mouth as Seamus slid his fingers down Dean’s waist and towards the button on his trousers? Would his hands shake as he pushed at the offending piece of fabric?   
  
If Seamus took Dean into his mouth, would Dean drag his fingers through Seamus’ hair? If he was unpracticed and messy, would Dean still let out small, unhinged noises? Would Dean’s bare thighs shake under Seamus’ hands as he reached the peak of bliss?   
  
Would Dean return the favor after?   
  
As Seamus answered every one of his questions and more that night, he looked to his dresser where the untouched bottle of  _ Dreamless Sleep_ sat. Dean fought sleep of his own next to him. Seamus reached over, looking away from the bottle, and touched Dean’s cheek.   
  
Dean’s eyes were closed, but he still smiled. “It’s much quieter on this side of the flat.”   
  
“Poppy snores,” Seamus replied. He felt Dean’s tired laugh under his hand. He sat up on his elbow and looked to see her sprawled out in her own bed, for once. He looked back to Dean and traced his fingers along the line of his jaw, across the grainy stubble, until he reached Dean’s chin.   
  
“If I fall asleep will you be here when I wake up?” Seamus whispered.   
  
Dean opened his eyes and Seamus searched for the answer in the depth of brown. In lieu of words, Dean scooted forward and touched their lips together. It was slower and softer than any of the kisses before, but Seamus felt his answer in the unspoken words.   
  
Like always, Dean would be there.


	8. eight

In the quiet stillness of the morning, if Dean closed his eyes, he could still feel Seamus’ fingers dragging through the stubble on his cheek, whispering nothings as Dean fought sleep of his own.   
  
The only thing better than spending the night with Seamus was waking up next to him the following morning. That could possibly be topped by Seamus’ arm sprawled over his chest, a steady weight and a reminder of Seamus’ hands on him the night before, or the feeling of their legs intertwined under the duvet, the closeness of the previous night still in tact through sleep.     
  
Now, Seamus was out next to him, and Dean turned to his side as gently as he could to look at him. He looked at the lines across Seamus’ forehead, furrowed with sleep. Dean wished there was something he could do to erase the lines of worry that took over Seamus’ face over the years. He wondered what Seamus was dreaming of. He wondered if he was a part of those dreams.   
  
Last night, Seamus told Dean he started fancying him in their  _ fifth _ year at Hogwarts. Dean wondered how many of the lines on Seamus’ face were caused from thinking Dean didn’t love him back.   
  
He wanted to reach over and touch the scar near Seamus’ nose, but letting Seamus sleep peacefully won against Dean’s desire.   
  
A soft whimpering came from behind him, so Dean twisted over and looked down to Poppy.   
  
“Hi, princess,” Dean whispered, laughing when her tail started wagging. He reached down, pulled her up, and put her in between them. He waited until she got situated before scratching behind her ears.   
  
It wasn’t long before Poppy fell back asleep in the warmth of Seamus’ bed, curled up between them. When he was sure she wasn’t going to get up, Dean slipped out from under the duvet and sat up. He wanted to be quick so Seamus wouldn’t wake up while he was gone, but he had to tell Luna what happened. She listened to his crisis about his feelings for Seamus all the previous week, and it was only right that she be the first to know when something finally happened. He reached to the floor and slid his trousers from the previous night on, before snagging a shirt off the floor that looked clean enough.   
  
Poppy looked up when he stood from the bed, and Dean bent over to pat her head.   
  
“I’ll be right back,” he whispered to her. With one last look at Seamus, Dean left the room and exited the flat.   
  
The Lovegoods were in the corner unit at the end of the hall, and as Dean walked to their front door, he couldn’t help the smile he felt forming. He felt like he was at the start of something great, like he couldn’t stop the giddy feeling bubbling in his chest. And sure, things weren’t perfect; Dean had no idea what Seamus wanted out of  _ them _ . If Seamus just wanted to screw around once or twice and go back to just friends, Dean didn’t know if his heart would be able to handle it.   
  
He stepped over the pots of plants around the Lovegood’s front door and knocked. There was a rustle of papers and a sound of muttering from inside before Dean heard the slide of the chain lock. He waited for the click of deadbolt that would follow right after, before the door swung open.   
  
Xenophilius Lovegood was never the type of person to get used to, so when the door to the Lovegood flat opened and he poked his head out, Dean stared. The man’s wild blond hair was sticking up on one side, and he had a streak of printing ink across his cheek.   
  
“Is Luna here?” Dean eventually asked.   
  
Her father tilted his head. “Luna isn’t home; she said she was staying at yours after drinking, where is she?”   
  
Dean paused as the wheels turned in his brain. “Right, she did, bloody hell I drank a lot last night, sorry about that!”   
  
Before Luna’s dad could say anything else, Dean turned on his heel and booked it back down the hall. He heard the Lovegood’s door shut behind him. He walked right past the door for his own flat until he was in front of Rolf’s.   
  
Dean knocked sharply on Rolf’s door. “Hello?” From inside he instantly heard what sounded like a high-pitched barking, a noise he only knew to be called Teresa, and two very human voices whispering hurriedly at each other.   
  
“Luna?” Dean called.   
  
The voices stopped, and Dean listened to a set of footsteps walking towards him. A moment later the door opened just enough for Rolf’s head to peek out.   
  
“Hello, Dean, is there a problem?” Rolf asked, feigning innocence. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and Dean resisted the urge to check him out.    
  
Dean ignored his question. “Y’alright, Luna?”   
  
Rolf tried to shift so he was more in front of the small opening of the door. Dean rolled his eyes and looked right at Rolf. He watched the way the brown skin on his cheeks seemed to darken.   
  
“Hurt her and I’ll murder you without a lick of hesitation. We’ll bury your body on Seamus’ property and no one will ever find you.” He looked above Rolf into the flat. “Luna, see you at breakfast?”   
  
Before Rolf could pick his jaw up on the floor, Dean walked back to his own flat. When he heard Rolf’s door shut he finally let himself break into a grin. As long as Luna was happy, Dean was too, and after much reluctance, she seemed like she really was. They fit together so well and Luna lit up so much around him that Dean could tell Rolf was something special to her.   
  
He walked back to his own flat back to his own special person.   
  
His search for Luna took longer than he wanted, and he didn’t want Seamus to get the wrong idea if he woke up and Dean wasn’t there. Dean wanted Seamus to know just how on-board he was with  _ them _ .   
  
Whatever they were.   
  
He snuck into the flat quietly, twisting the handle so the latch catching wouldn’t wake Seamus up. He switched on their coffee maker before tip-toeing back to Seamus’ room. Poppy sat up when he stepped into Seamus’ room and Dean hurried over to start petting her before she made any noise. Her whole body shook with how rapidly she wagged her tail to get down, so Dean picked her up and put her on the floor so she could run off into the other room.   
  
Dean looked to Seamus; he looked at the furrow on his forehead and the way his lips were parted. He was curled on his side, his fingers wrapped into the sheet below him. Something in the pit of Dean’s stomach turned.   
  
He thought about the time in their lives before they lived together. He remembered how he started to pull away from Seamus at the worst point of Seamus’ life, when Seamus couldn’t pull himself out from the spot he was in. He started to visit less because of how much it hurt to see his best friend in such a state. Dean didn’t think the guilt from that would ever go away.   
  
But maybe, he could start making up for it. Dean unbuttoned his trousers and slid them to the ground, before sliding back under Seamus’ duvet. His feet were cold and he felt a shiver slip down his spine that he couldn’t control, but he basked in the warmth coming off of Seamus. As slowly as he could, Dean moved towards Seamus and put his hand on Seamus’ cheek. His own dark skin stood out against Seamus’ pale cheek, and Dean ran his thumb over the lines on Seamus’ forehead.   
  
Suddenly, Seamus startled awake, sharply inhaling through his nose. Dean pulled his arm back as Seamus shot into a sitting position, looking around the room before finding Dean.   
  
Dean cringed, a sinking feeling filling the pit of his stomach. Seamus could have been having a nightmare and Dean just left him stuck in it. He wasn’t naïve enough to think that Seamus’ dreams would stop just because they slept together one night. He saw the full bottle of  _ Dreamless Sleep _ on Seamus’ bedside table that morning, and knew it was the first time in a while Seamus slept without any potions.   
  
Maybe he had something to do with that. Maybe that was a big deal.   
  
“Sorry,” Dean said, sitting up with him.   
  
Seamus exhaled slowly. “It’s okay, I—” he paused.   
  
“The dreams?” Dean asked softly.   
  
Seamus closed his eyes. “It’s okay. I can deal with them if you’re there when I wake up.”   
  
And if there was anything Dean could say to that, he couldn’t find the words. Instead, he leaned over and kissed Seamus with all of the things he couldn’t say.   
  
Dean slid his hand across the sheets until it was under the duvet, bumping into Seamus’ bare stomach. As Seamus inhaled sharply, Dean slid his fingers across the small patch of hair before wrapping his hand around Seamus’ waist and pulling him closer. Dean gasped at the feeling of Seamus against him. Seamus was already hard and Dean was right there with him. Seamus’ mouth was hot against his as he ground their hips together.   
  
Feeling Seamus against him was nothing compared to hearing his own name pouring from Seamus’ mouth between kisses. Seamus was vocal and unabashed, and Dean was already finding it difficult to make the moment last. Dean sighed against Seamus’ mouth as Seamus pushd at the waistband of his boxer-briefs.   
  
Seamus’ hand was warm and sure as he wrapped his fingers around both of them. Dean looked to him and saw the glint in his best friend’s eye that reminded him of the Seamus he knew before the war.    
  
Dean closed his eyes and let the feeling of  _ Seamus  _ consume him. “I can’t believe –  _ ah _ – I can’t—”   
  
He felt Seamus chuckle. “Sorry, didn’t catch that, mate.” His fingers moved lazily and tantalizing and Dean felt his toes curl. Seamus’ mouth was on his again.    
  
Dean laughed shakily against his mouth. He couldn’t bring himself to try and speak again, getting lost in the feeling of Seamus’ hand on him, of Seamus’ mouth against his neck, of being surrounded by everything Seamus.   
  
Seamus’ hand sped up and Dean let his head fall against the pillow. Seamus’ mouth chased his, and dean couldn’t do anything but groan against it as he crawled up to the edge of bliss and tumbled right over it.   
  
They kissed lazily after, chuckling quietly between. It felt like Dean was in a dream of his own.

“We were supposed to meet Luna and Rolf for breakfast,” Dean muttered. “Like twenty minutes ago.”  
  
Seamus sighed and pulled the duvet up and over both of their heads. “I can think of so many other things I would rather do and none of them involve leaving the flat.”  
  
Dean grinned and leaned over to kiss Seamus, and as if the universe was teasing them, Seamus’ stomach made a loud, empty noise. Dean laughed brightly and threw the blanket off of them.  
  
“Come on. Food,” he said, swinging his feet off the bed. “Fuel for more of this.”  
  
When Seamus didn’t laugh, Dean turned and looked to him. His expression was thoughtful, and Dean watched the furrow of his dreams return.  
  
“What’s wrong?” Dean asked.  
  
“When we leave this bed, what are we?” Seamus asked. Color prickled to his cheeks as vulnerability exposed itself on his expression.  
  
Dean didn’t let his feet touch the floor. He turned his body so he could look at Seamus without straining.  
  
“What do you want us to be?” Dean asked quietly.  
  
Seamus looked at him thoughtfully for a moment before answering. “Dean, I’ve been in love with you for so bloody long, it’d just be nice to know that you’re anywhere near that.”  
  
Dean swallowed. “I think… I maybe have been for a lot longer than I realized. I’m all in if you are.”   
  
When Dean’s feet touched the floor twenty minutes later, he was officially dating Seamus Finnigan, easy as that.  
  
Because like everything with Seamus, it was just easy.  
  
It was easy to reach over and pull Seamus in for one more kiss before the headed to breakfast. It was easy to walk down to the Leaky Cauldron holding Seamus’ hand, to the surprised exclamations of their closest friends. Seamus fit perfectly against him when he laughed so hard he had to lean against Dean’s chest for support, and Dean’s arm fit perfectly around him.  
  
It was easy, it was perfect, it was Seamus and Dean. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all she wrote! 
> 
> Well, maybe. I'm always taking deamus prompts on my [tumblr](http://bansheehp.tumblr.com) and i'm always up for talking about deamus. 
> 
> Just one more big thank you to Jill for reading over this chapter and being so amazingly supportive through this whole project, and to Bianca and Renee as well!

**Author's Note:**

> I owe a pretty big thank you to Jill/dreamgazer220, because without her this story most definitely would not have happened. Love you, Jill! If you want to talk about deamus or my stories, my harry potter tumblr is bansheehp.tumblr.com


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